Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/475

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Restore them, Ο my son. By all the Gods
Thy fathers worshipped, rob me not of life.
Ah, wretched me! He does not answer me,
But looks away as one who will not yield.
Ο creeks! Ο cliffs out-jutting in the deep!
Ο all ye haunts of beasts that roam the hills,
Ο rocks that go sheer down, to you I wail,
(None other do I know to whom to speak,)
To you who were my old familiar friends,
The things this son of great Achilles does;940
Swearing that he would take me to my home
He takes me off to Troïa; giving me
His right hand as a pledge, he keeps my bow,
The bow of Heracles, the son of Zeus,
And fain would show me to the Argive host.
He takes me off by force, as though I were
In my full strength, and knows not that he slays
A dead, cold corpse, a very vapour's shade,
A phantom worthless. Never, were I strong,
Had he o'erpowered me; even as I am
He had not caught me but by fraud; but now
I have been tricked most vilely. What comes next?
What must I do? . . . Nay, give them back to me.
Be thyself once again. . . . What sayest thou?950
Thou 'rt silent . . . I, poor I, am now as nought.
Ο cave with double opening, once again
I enter thee stript bare, my means of life
Torn from me. I shall waste away alone
In this my dwelling, slaying with this bow
Nor wingèd bird, nor beast that roams the hills;
But I myself, alas, shall give a meal
To those who gave me mine, and whom I chased
Now shall chase me; and I, in misery,
Shall pay in death the penalty of death